


Fated Encounter

by mylifemyheart



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-07 19:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16414385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifemyheart/pseuds/mylifemyheart
Summary: AU where Liz is an FBI field agent and has gone under deep cover to take down a human trafficking ring. Things don't go according to plan when she unexpectedly meets Raymond "Red" Reddington, who somehow seems to know more about her than should be possible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm currently in the middle of a fic right now (The Blacklist: Rewritten) but this idea popped into my head and refused to leave.

Contrary to what people may be inclined to believe about him, Raymond Reddington had never employed the services of a prostitute before. The only times he ever stepped foot in brothels or facilities of a similar nature, it was for business, plain and simple. Although he preferred any meetings or dealings to take place in locations that offered more discretion, sometimes, it just couldn't be helped.

This was one of those times.

The establishment itself was rather high-scale, a place where the rich and corrupt often frequented. Neither a bar nor a nightclub, but a dark mix between the two. The owner, Johnny Gravine, was a sleazy man in his late forties, with a thin but defined frame and dark features that could pass as handsome to a stranger that didn't know any better. Red despised everything about the man, but he had a tricky delivery he needed to make within the next twenty-four hours, and Johnny's shipping services were required.

Desperate times, and all that. 

So, here he was, sitting in a private room, the lights dim enough to provide a relaxed atmosphere, but bright enough to clearly showcase everything in it. His legs were crossed, and he was leaning into the back cushions of a mediocre, leather sofa, his arm on the armrest and a glass of scotch - also mediocre, as far as Red was concerned - in his hand. With the dealings finished, he drained what was left in the glass before setting it on the table in front of him, and prepared to leave. Just as he was about to stand, Johnny, who was sitting across from him on a separate couch, stopped him.

"What's the rush, Raymond? Sit back, relax, and enjoy my gift to you," he said, pressing a button on the corner of the table. 

Almost immediately, the door to the room opened, and a woman walked in, her head bowed. She appeared fairly young - mid-to-late twenties, perhaps - with straight, brown hair that hung just beneath her shoulders. A black dress with thin straps barely covered her lean body from chest to thighs, her long legs accentuated by the matching stilettos she wore. Her ivory skin practically glowed beneath the lighting. 

Red chuckled, though he was far from amused. "Very generous of you, Johnny, but-"

"She's new, but there's something about her that has clients already lined up. I'm giving you first dibs, Red."

His eye twitched at being interrupted, but before he could form a response, he found his attention being drawn to the woman again. He had noticed her stiffen and almost flinch at the mention of his name - though she tried to hide it. It's a good thing she was standing to the side and out of Johnny's direct view, because she very obviously gave herself away when she indulged in a quick, seemingly involuntary stroke of her wrist.

And that's when she  _really_ caught his attention.

_That scar..._

"You know what, Johnny? I think I might just take you up on your offer."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments, guys - they really encourage me to keep writing!

This was it.

With the help of a reluctant CI, Elizabeth Scott was able to get herself hired at one of Johnny Gravine's clubs - which was really just a high-end brothel. She was posing as Grace Smith, a law student who swore to herself that she would only do this job for as long as it took to pay off the few remaining semesters of her studies. Her cover wasn't too difficult to manage, considering her actual knowledge of the law. Plus, she had Aram, the FBI's tech whiz, to help with the forgery. 

She had been told that she would be going into one of the VIP rooms - that Gravine had requested her specifically. And so when the call came, she took a deep, calming breath before entering, keeping her head bowed as previously instructed. She had thought she had her nerves under control, but she couldn't keep from reacting when she heard the infamous name leave Gravine's mouth. 

_Red._

_Raymond Reddington._

_Concierge of Crime._

_The FBI's Fourth Most Wanted._

She swore to herself when she realized her reflexive movements had caught the attention of the notorious criminal. She could feel his gaze burning into her, and she didn't know what to make of it. It was unsettling, to say the least. 

Although she had expected to see some relatively high-profile people, she certainly hadn't expected to see  _the_ Raymond Reddington, let alone stand in the same room as him, a mere few feet away. He had evaded capture for over two decades, after all. And now she was stuck with an internal dilemma.

There was an urge to cuff him, to read him his rights and throw him into a secure cell at the nearest blacksite. But she wasn't Special Agent Elizabeth Scott right now. She didn't have cuffs, or a gun, or backup. No bugs, no wires, no trackers. And by the time she was able to gain access to a secure line, Reddington would no doubt be on a jet to who-knows-where, far away from the reach of the authorities. It went against every urge and instinct she had as a figure in law enforcement, but she had to remind herself that she wasn't here for Reddington, she was here for Gravine and his human-trafficking ring. All those men, women,  _children_... She was here for them. 

But right now, she was Grace Smith.

And Grace Smith was here to seduce Raymond Reddington, not arrest him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know, but this actually helps me write faster, so bear with me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for the kudos and comments, guys! Here's another chapter - short but, hopefully, better than nothing?

As soon as Johnny leaves the room, Red swivels his gaze toward Liz. "Hello," he says, flashing her a grin. "Why don't you have a seat? I hear heels are not the most comfortable footwear - though, I must say, they certainly look fantastic." 

Something crosses her face -  _hesitance, maybe?_ \- but it disappears before he can be sure. He is surprised, however, when she casually straddles his lap. "Thank you," she says in response to his compliment, quirking a coy smile of her own. 

He tilts his head, not bothering to hide his amusement. "I was referring to the seat beside me, but-"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she blurts, her cheeks flushing a most endearing tint as she hurriedly attempts to move.

"Don't be," he stops her with one hand around her wrist and the other against the low of her back, holding her still with a firm but gentle grip, "I'm quite enjoying this view."

He truly, truly is. 

Up close, he can see just how blue her eyes really are, both bright and deep like the different layers of an ocean. Her lashes are long and thick, her body toned yet delicate, and her skin is even softer than it looks. 

_Except for this one spot..._

"What's your name, sweetheart?" 

"Grace," she replies softly, almost breathlessly as she looks down toward her wrist, where he's stroking her with his thumb. 

"Grace," he hums, his voice deep and gravelly. "And how did you get this scar, Grace?"

"There was a fire. I was fourteen."

He knows she's lying about the time frame, but he decides to humor her anyway. "Someone tried to hurt you," he murmurs, a question that sounds more like a statement.

"Not exactly, no," she says, looking away. 

Her attention is brought back to him, however, when he brings his lips to the raised flesh, kissing it almost reverently. He then tucks her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger before brushing them against the skin of her neck, past her bare shoulders, and down her arms. His hands stroke her back, the curves of her waist, her hips, caressing her smooth legs as he uses both his touch and his gaze to check for any bugs or wires - though, if he's being honest, he already knew he wouldn't find any. But from the periodic reports that he received, he's aware that Elizabeth Scott is actually Special Agent Elizabeth Scott. 

So when he leans in, bringing his mouth to just below her ear, he tells himself that he's just being careful. In case there are any mics in the room - which, really, he doubts exist, considering the FBI haven't stormed in and surrounded him yet - he lowers his voice even further, his lips skimming her lobe as he whispers, "What are you doing here, Lizzie?" 


	4. Chapter 4

_"What are you doing here, Lizzie?"_

It takes her a second to register his words, too distracted by the strength of his hands, the heat of his touch - not to mention a certain part of his quickly hardening anatomy. But when she does - when the low timbre of his voice becomes more than just an intimate vibration beneath her ear, she freezes.

_How could he possibly...?_

"I'm sorry?" Liz tries to brush it off with an awkward chuckle, praying to God she heard him wrong. 

_There's just no way..._

"I said," and this time, he presses a kiss to the nape of her neck before moving back to the lobe of her ear, "what are you doing here, Lizzie? Or should I say Agent Scott?"

And this time, she responds immediately. But just like before, she's only brought closer when she tries to jump off him.

And just like before, she doesn't feel threatened. Not really.  

"No need to worry, Lizzie. Your secret is perfectly safe with me."

Meeting his scorching gaze with an unflinching glare of her own, she hisses, "Who are you?"

It's his turn to chuckle, and she tries to tell herself that she definitely does not like the sound of it, and that it most certainly does not make her feel warm from head to toe. "You know perfectly well who I am." It's not an accusation, but a mere statement of fact. "You knew the second Johnny called me Red." 

"And how do you know who I am?" 

Even if she were made as a cop, there's no way he could have known her name - not unless he knew of her beforehand, which she has no reason to suspect is even possible. 

Well, clearly, there's no reason to suspect at all.

She's obviously missing something, but what? 

"How about a trade?" He grins, tilting his head just slightly. "You tell me, and I tell you." When she doesn't respond, he continues, "What is it the FBI wants this time?" 

She hesitates, but after a quick assessment of their current positions - both literally and figuratively - she knows that this is her best bet as of now. "Gravine's trafficking ring."

His only reaction is a blink and a nod, so she's taken off guard when his next words seemingly come out of left field. "Your father." 

Without intending to, without conscious effort, her voice lowers to a whisper, as if they're speaking about something they shouldn't.

Perhaps they are.

"What about my father?" she asks, frowning. 

"The answer to your question."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that you guys seem to be liking this fic!!

_“The answer to your question.”_

Technically, he isn’t lying. 

He may have first knew _of_ her because of their shared, tragic past, but he knows who she is now because of the only father she’s ever really known.

_Sam._

In the beginning, Sam would call, send letters and photos, let him know how Elizabeth was doing. But as the years progressed, the updates would grow fewer and fewer, for Red knew that they would be safer without the contact - direct or not - and, in all honesty, he didn’t want to get any more attached to her than he already was. 

So, instead of personal updates from an old friend, he received factual reports - sans photos - from hired men. He would be informed of her school life, her dating life, her work life... 

Just knowing she was happy and safe was enough for him.

And yet, here they are, her sitting on his lap like she had all those years ago. 

Except she’s not a little girl anymore. 

Young, yes, but undoubtedly a woman - and a stunningly beautiful one at that. 

“My father,” she drawls slowly, audibly suspicious. “What is that supposed to mean? You knew him? Did you know my father?”

Ignoring the twitch under his eye in the hopes that she will, too, he holds her steady as he moves to stand up, not quite ready to let her go just yet. 

Standing toe-to-toe and not breaking eye contact, he moves one hand from the dip in her waist and trails it down her arm until his fingers tangle with her own. Then, slowly, he brings it up between them and brushes his lips against her scar once, twice, before carefully letting it drop to her side. 

“I assume you have protocols in place to protect yourself from lesser men than I?” he asks, mock serious - but also deadly serious. 

Blinking, apparently taken back - _he doesn’t blame her_ , he thinks with an inner smirk - her short response is a second or two delayed. “Yes."

He nods. “Excellent. Then I’ll see you this Saturday at Johnny’s party,” he says casually, straightening his clothes - and buttoning his jacket - as he moves toward the door. 

“I wasn’t aware I was going to one.”

“Well, you are now - that is, if you still wish to take down our... mutual friend?” At her lack of reply, he simply grins. “Stay safe, Lizzie.”

_No, he’s definitely not ready to let her go just yet._

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Comment your thoughts!


End file.
